


Chameleon

by thatbitch11 (orphan_account)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Con Artists, F/M, Some Humor, Undercover Missions, amelia just wild in general
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:22:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22538479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/thatbitch11
Summary: Amelia Jones runs a variety of legal and illegal businesses in the heart of different Liverpool housing estates. Seen as a charitable member of the local community by day, who runs an American import store. By night, she helps Ivan run a brothel and a gambling operation, and is known as Z.Will unknowingly hiring an undercover agent turn this upside down?
Relationships: America/England (Hetalia), America/Russia (Hetalia)
Kudos: 11





	1. 1

Amelia was in the back room of her store when she heard the front door jingle. 

She leaned over to the security cameras, and put down the can of root beer she was drinking to prop herself up with her elbows as she watched a blond man interact with one of her employees. She watched the two talk for a few minutes on the monitor before her phone started ringing, letting her know she was needed up front. She flipped the ends of her wavy dark wig over her shoulder, and reapplied her lipstick as she came down the stairs.

“You’re here for a job interview, right?” she asked.

The man nodded, and she smiled widely before reaching her hand out. “Audrey Smith, owner. You?”   
  


“Arthur Kirkland.” He said nervously, shaking her hand.

“If you tryna follow me, we can do this lil interview right now.”

Arthur nodded, and followed her up the short flight of stairs. While he didn’t mean to watch the way she carried herself in the short denim skirt she was wearing, the jangling of the gold chains attached to the belt loops just  _ forced _ him to pay attention. At least, that’s what he reasoned to himself.

“I know this looks like the casting couch, but I swear it ain’t.” She said with a laugh, motioning for him to sit down, and taking a seat in the rolling chair on the other side of the table.

His eyes widened at her referencing the casting couch in the first sentence of a job interview, but tried his best to keep his composure.

“So, your application checks out and allat, but why do you wanna work here?” Amelia said as she looked over the print out of his application from the job website, setting it face down and crossing her arms over her chest.

He shifted uncomfortably on the faux leather loveseat, and played with his fingers as he tried to think of an answer.  _ The HRMC thinks your books are being done illegally?  _

“Right, I really needed a job, and you seem to pay quite well.” He paused, and tried recalling the information the department gave him about her business. “And I’ve heard this is an accepting environment.”  _ If hiring almost exclusively criminals counts as ‘accepting’ that is. _   
  


“Damn right I pay well, and I’m glad I got that kinda reputation.” She said with another wide smile. He smiled back nervously, suddenly self conscious about his teeth not being as white and straight as hers.

“I was tryna hire you anyway, but I wanted to meet you first.”

“That’s all?”

Amelia nodded, blowing a bubble with the piece of gum she was chewing. 

“When can you start?”

“As soon as possible.” Arthur said enthusiastically, catching her off guard.

“If you that excited, how bout tomorrow, 8 to 4? See if you can survive the school rush.”

“You have a school rush?”

She scoffed, and blew another bubble. “My store is basically all snacks and candy, obviously kids gonna be all in my store.”

He laughed at her matter of fact tone, and crossed his legs under the table. 

“You mind if I ask where you’re from Audrey?”

“I’m from a decent sized city by the Canadian border, just not from a great part of it.”

she chuckled to herself, and ran an acrylic nail along the edge of one of her hoop earrings.

“I’m definitely American, ain’t no Canadians running a American import store.”

Arthur showed up the next day in skinny jeans and a long sleeved tee shirt, uncomfortable with dressing so casually for work, even if it was at a place like this. Amelia unlocked the door for him with a large plastic cup in hand, and a tired expression.

“Kids usually start coming around 8:30, on they way to school, so if you could make sure everything looks good while I open the registers.”

He nodded, and followed her over to the refrigerators, where she explained how she wanted everything arranged. “This why I pay y’all a lot, cuz I like all my shit looking a certain kinda way.”

He gave her an uncertain look, and took mental notes on how she wanted the drink cooler.

“I want these shits in rainbow order, period, dark red all the way to purple.” she counted on her fingers, and gestured to the cooler again. “Make sure you keep brands alphabetical, I got an image to maintain.”

_ You run a bloody corner shop, I can’t imagine that’s important. _

“Kyle coming in at noon, and he gon’ teach you how to fill the slushy machine, and make our subs.”

He picked up one of the large plastic cups from her dispenser, and gave her an incredulous look through it. “How big is this exactly?”

“44 ounces. People fuckin’ love it.” 

“I can imagine.” Arthur mumbled, turning it over in his hands before putting it back on the shelf.

True to her word, he was overwhelmed by primary school aged children and their parents on the way to school and work, and he could scarcely keep up with them all.

‘Audrey’ seemed to know everyone who came through the door, though, her infectious laughter and mingling of accents bringing the shop to life. Arthur recognized some of the people in the shop from mugshots, and couldn’t help but be disgusted at her having unique handshakes with all of them. His interest was piqued when he saw her lead a small group of teenage boys outside, but wasn’t allowed to leave the register. 

“Is this an offie?” He asked casually when she came back in, to which she laughed.

“Nah nah, we all legal here, check my books.”

_ I’m here for a reason Audrey. _

He laughed back awkwardly as he handed someone their receipt, keeping an eye on her as she followed a man with a face tattoo into the storage room. 

The man came out with three subs in hand, laughing along with some joke that he assumed Audrey told, and Arthur couldn’t help but clench his jaw.

_ How can anyone be so comfortable with thugs? _

  
  


“Aye Captain Kirk! Get yo ass back here!”

He whipped his head around from where he was grabbing someone a pack of cigarettes, and gave a look of confused disgust.

“You talking to me?” He shouted back as he scanned the carton, to which she poked her head around the corner, and motioned him over with one of her claw like nails. He grumbled to himself after the customer left the store, and took a deep breath before making his way toward the back. 

She beckoned him inside a chilled back room, where she had donned gloves and was leaning up against a steel table. 

“Took you long enough, lemme get you set up with Kyle.”

He looked over his shoulder at a lanky man in his thirties who reeked of weed, and gave an awkward half wave.

Once Audrey left, he turned to the man who was supposed to be teaching him how to make the subs this shop was supposedly known for. 

“Are you high mate?”

Kyle shook his head as he sluggishly grabbed a loaf of bread, to which Arthur rolled his eyes.

“You smoke?” His coworker asked after what felt like an eternity, making him go bright red. 

“Only fags.” He lied as he wrapped a sub in cling wrap, hoping he wouldn’t be questioned any further, or worse, offered a cigarette.

  
  


She came back in to call Kyle to the register, closing the door behind her once he left.

“So.”

He looked up from where he was pretending to spread mayonnaise on a sub, cocking an eyebrow.

“Yeah?”

“You like it here so far?”

“Yeah, I think I’ll stay.”

  
_ I couldn’t quit if I wanted to _

  
  
  


Amelia smacked her lips at Ivan putting his feet up on her vanity as she took off her makeup, making him crack a smile. 

“If you don’t get yo nasty ass feet-“ she trailed off, her eyes narrowing as she took her false eyelashes off, glaring at his reflection in the large mirror.

“Calm down Meli, they’re Gucci, like.”

  
She scoffed, and ran a makeup wipe over her cheek. “Don’t call me by my government name, hoe.”

“Which name do you want me to call you then, love?” He asked, leaning over and grabbing a handful of chex mix from the bowl next to his feet.

“Queen of the Scousers.” She said in a Liverpool accent, reaching under the hairline of her wig and peeling it off carefully. “How I’m lookin?” 

“Like a lesbian.” 

Amelia put the long wig on her mannequin head, and glared at him. 

Ivan smiled as he rubbed one of his large hands over her blonde buzz cut, the chunky rings he wore scraping against her head. 

“You’re working Anfield tonight, yeah? I can’t be arsed with them over there.”

She smacked her lips, and took his hand off her head.

“You  _ stay _ sticking me with the hoes mane, they yours anyway.”

“They listen to you, all they do is slag me off behind me back.”

Amelia laughed loudly as she took out her hoop earrings, turning to him and laughing again.

“Not my fault you stay lookin like Dracula when it ain’t Halloween.” 

Ivan rolled his eyes, pulling out his phone and scrolling aimlessly as she got ready for her stint at the brothel. 

Half an hour later, Z was almost ready to take Ivan’s place.

He glanced at her lacing up her steel toed boots, and gave a look of disgust.

“I just don’t get why you gotta dress like a lesbian.”

She looked up from where she was sitting on the floor, and gave him the finger.

“Them hoes respect me more than you, you said it yourself baby.”

Ivan scoffed, and took another handful of chex mix.

“Don’t start with that, it’s still my operation.”

“Ooh look at you, using big boy words.” She said mockingly, grabbing her grillz from off the vanity and putting it in her mouth.

“I know I’m not finna find you in my apartment when I get back tomorrow Vanya.”

“I wouldn't stay in this shithole if my life depended on it.” He shot back, taking his legs off the marble patterned vanity, and getting up from the chair. 

  
  


Now fully transitioned to her nighttime persona, Amelia revved the engine on her motorcycle as she weaved through the traffic of the city, slowly making her way toward its seedy underbelly. The neon lights of the red light district embraced her, lighting up the spikes on her denim jacket as she pulled up to the rundown building her and Ivan operated out of. 

A drugged out girl in fishnets acknowledged her with a raising of her cigarette as she parked the motorcycle.

“I thought it was V’s night?”

Amelia shook her head as she held out a joint for the woman to light, which she did eagerly, with shaky scabbed fingers. 

“A’s been waiting here all night Z, says he won’t leave until you talk to him personally.” One of the prostitutes said after she swung open the main door, making her roll her eyes.

“He can never bleeding wait, aye?” Amelia said in a heavy Liverpool accent, going inside and popping the collar on her jacket as she was bathed in red LED lights. 

She adopted a masculine strut as she made her way to a back room, setting her jaw before she pushed open a graffitied steel door to reveal Abel.

Z crossed her arms across her chest once she’d shut the door, and leaned up against the wall with an unamused expression.

“What the hell do you want?” She said with a snarl, cocking her head.

“I just want to talk to you, is that a fucking crime?”

“It is when you inconvenience  _ my _ hoes and my place of business.”

He snorted, putting his feet up on the wooden coffee table.

“This is hardly a business.”

“Neither is selling hippie crack to kids.”

Abel raised an eyebrow.

“Bold of you to say, tenant.”

“I paid you last week, now leave.”

He mockingly put his hands in a surrender pose, kicking the table away from him.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll use one of your  _ precious  _ hoes now.”

“You better pay this time.” Z said threateningly, slamming the door loudly behind him when he left the room. 

“Asswipe.” She mumbled to herself in her native accent once he was gone, taking a sheet of pills from her jacket pocket and popping one before going back into the main area of the dilapidated building.

At 2 in the morning, Amelia was taken from where she was negotiating prices for some of her girls, to deal with Abel.

Again.

She angrily lit up another joint, storming out to where he was standing outside with a cigarette, nonchalant as ever.

“Oi!”

He looked over in her general direction, before turning his face back toward the dimly lit street.

“I know you heard me!”

Abel shook his head as he chuckled to himself, taking another drag.

He dropped it when a gun was pressed against his temple.

“Pay. My. Hoes.” Amelia hissed, tapping the end of the louis vuitton patterned glock above his ear.

The Dutch man swallowed heavily, and took a wad of cash from his wallet as his fingers shook violently.

“I-is that enough?”

She counted with one hand, glock loosely propped up against his head. The silence was thick as she thumbed through, eventually lowering the gun.

“For now.”

He breathed a sigh of relief.

“Get the fuck out.”

Abel didn’t have to be told twice.

  
  


“You alright Audrey?” Arthur asked when he was let in the next morning, taking note of her glazed over eyes, and constant yawning.

Amelia looked up from her 44 ounce cup full to the brim of coffee, and nodded.

“Yeah, I’m good, just had a late night.”

_ What illegal bullshit was she up to this time? _

He watched her closely as she set up the shop, looking on in amusement as the caffeine began to visibly kick in. 

“Having a good morning?”

She smiled at him, and threw her empty cup in the trash can next to the register.

“You so awkward, it’s adorable.”

_ Adorable? _

He stared at her confidently sassy walk as she went around the shop with her checklist, and knew this would be more difficult than he initially thought.


	2. Chapter 2

Check out my playlist for this fic on spotify! Art to come soon :)

[ **https://open.spotify.com/user/xxua6640godptteyk3mshmk0d/playlist/2x43MgXWPzszfnaE6UOp8h?si=AHNMXhzgTdWonQjz1HVS3w** ](https://open.spotify.com/user/xxua6640godptteyk3mshmk0d/playlist/2x43MgXWPzszfnaE6UOp8h?si=AHNMXhzgTdWonQjz1HVS3w)

  
  


* * *

  
  


“How were your first few days?”

Arthur sighed as he handed his higher-up his typed summary of observations about Audrey.

“Interesting to say the least.”

“Was it now?”

The older man in front of him put on his reading glasses as he glanced over the packet in front of him.

“The team listening in definitely had a laugh, she seems like quite a character.”

He laughed at this, relaxing his posture as his superior began speaking more casually.

They sat in silence as his higher up read over the report, occasionally making a noise to himself or highlighting a few lines.

“So she hasn’t eluded to any criminal activity yet?”

“None, though she allows her employees to come in high, and seems to be very comfortable with local thugs.”

_ If you took the time to read, you would see that, mate. _

  
  
  


“Now, we’ve been following her bank activity for a few weeks, and it seems that she sends an awful lot of money to an ‘Alfred Jones’ of East Cleveland, Ohio. Your main mission this week is to find out  _ who _ that is to her, and why he is receiving Western Union payments from Audrey.”

Arthur accepted a copy of the bank statements from his superior, giving the man in front of him a curious look as he flipped through. “Do you have anything on him? His finances?”

“Most of his information is outside of our jurisdiction, unless we can connect her to some crime in the United States as well.”

He nodded, and gave a closer look at the statements. “200 pounds every week? That seems like quite a bit of money for somebody who runs a small shop.”

“We know she has income from other sources, but haven’t been able to find out  _ what  _ those sources are yet.”

“Right, do you want me on that as well?”

“If you could, that would be brilliant.”

  
  


The next time he was scheduled to work, Arthur spent the whole night leading up to it stressing himself out.  _ How do I ask? ‘Who is Alfred Jones to you’? Who names their child Alfred? _

He tried his best to dress more to what he thought Audrey would like, donning chains and plaid pants that hadn’t seen the light of day since his teenage punk phase. 

_ I look like a dick. _

“That fit raw bro.”

Arthur went bright red, and smiled sheepishly at her.

“So this is fine to wear here?”

She laughed as she counted bills in the register, writing down the total once she was done. 

“As long as you don’t show up naked, I really don’t care.”

Amelia gave him a long look over her notebook, and flirtatiously smiled. “I just might make that punk shit  _ your _ uniform though, you look real good in it.”

He raised an eyebrow, and went into the back room to clock in, face beet red.  _ She actually thinks I look nice?  _ Arthur looked at his reflection in the mirror next to the time clock, doing a half turn to watch the way the chains swung.  _ Maybe it’s not so bad, aye?  _ During a lull in customers, he mustered up the courage to do what he was  _ actually  _ sent to do.

“Where did you grow up?”

“What is this, an interrogation?” She laughed, taking a sip of her slushy and flipping her hair over her shoulder. 

He laughed nervously as well, hoping she wasn’t getting suspicious.

“But yeah, I’m from Chicago, from a part kinda like Anfield.”

_ Chicago? _

“I miss it sometimes, not gonna lie to you.”

Arthur nodded, ready to fake sympathy when she unknowingly dropped a bombshell.

“I be missing my boy AJ like hell.”

_ AJ? As in Alfred Jones? _

He bit his lip to keep himself from screaming. 

  
  
  


His lunch break was interrupted by Audrey sliding him a bottle of beer with a wide smile on her face. 

“Why?”

She smiled wider, opening her bottle against the edge of the table.

“I just got myself a vendor’s permit at that Valentine's Day fair next month.”

“Is this legal?” He said in awe, amazed at the amount of disregard she had for  _ any _ workplace regulations.

“Probably not, but this calls for a celebration! I’ve been tryna get this permit for a couple years now.”

She took a long swig from hers, and clinked it against Arthur’s bottle, which sat rigid in his hand.

“Ch-cheers?”

“Cheers baby!”

He nervously took a sip from his, knowing that getting drunk, undercover or not, at work was an awful idea.

“There’s gonna be a sign up sheet for working that day, so get on it if you tryna earn a little extra.” Amelia said after another swig, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Right, I’ll think about it.”

She smiled, and clapped him on the back.

“I hope you end up on it, cuz I like you a lot! Even though you new and all that.”

Arthur flushed red, and looked down at his feet.

  
  
  


Amelia parked her truck at the Queen’s Dock, pulling out the stacks of £100 notes she kept stashed in her purse and making sure she had the correct amount. She spotted her usual guy over the top of her sunglasses, and smiled widely at him. 

“Aye! How you doing!”

The older man patted her on the back once she was out of the pickup truck, smiling as well.

“You look peng! Business going well?”

“Yeah, we doing  _ good  _ good, you got everything I ordered?”

He nodded, tucking a gray dread behind his ear. 

“The crisps you usually get, and legos, right?”

“And my skittles?”

“Yeah, of course.” 

She smiled, and gave him a fist bump. 

“I got 5000 quid for you right here baby, you want the bands on?”

He gave a dismissive hand motion, and accepted the racks, putting them in his backpack and leading her over to the boxes meant for her. 

  
  


Amelia bobbed her head to her music as she drove inland, the bright blue wig she was wearing moving with her. 

“Throw up where I’m from, let em know I’m still hood.” She sang, winking at the car next to her at a red light, and cocking her head when he ducked his head away in embarrassment. 

“Ain’t gotta worry bout shit, money good.” Amelia shouted as she put a leg up on the dash, and smiled back at the boxes full of AR-15 parts and oxycontins hidden underneath snacks for her store. 

She pulled up to Ivan’s house in the countryside and hopped down from her white pickup truck before ringing the doorbell.

“That wig is minging Meli.”

“Don’t even start, you tryna help me unload this?”

He rolled his eyes and followed her out to her pickup truck, though he couldn’t keep himself from focusing on what she was wearing.

“Have you ever tried not dressing like one of our hoes?”

“If I got it, I’ma flaunt it, don’t care what these bitches say.”

“I’m not one of ‘these bitches’ though.” She smacked her lips, and took one of the boxes out of the bed of the truck. “We taking the chav-mobile, right?”

“Yeah, innit.” Ivan imitated, earning him a smack to the arm. 

“Turn this ghetto shit off, christ’s sake.” 

Amelia gave him the finger, and turned the music up louder as she made her way into the city.

“I got parts for 6 tools in today, and some oxys, which you owe me for.”

He leaned back in the passenger seat, and gave her an incredulous look.

“The oxys were your idea, I’m not paying for those.”

“Then you not seeing no profits from them, period.”

Ivan rolled his eyes, and lit a joint as the beat up corsa made its way into the gloomy streets of Anfield. Rows upon rows of abandoned and dilapidated houses flew by, until Amelia stopped the car in front of the one he owned.

They brought the boxes into the front room, and she did up all five locks on the front door once he was done bringing them in.

“I told Al I was finna call him today, so you might wanna put earbuds in or whatever.”   
  


He shook his head, and pulled his airpods case out of his jacket pocket.

“Fine, you still want my help though?”

“Duh, why you think I brought yo ass along?”

After setting up workstations for her and Ivan, Amelia pulled out the ipad she only used to talk to her brother, and excitedly FaceTimed him. “Yo! Can you see me?”

Her brother gave a thumbs up, and smiled widely. “Sup MiMi! Got you a new wig?”

She dramatically patted the top of her head, and stuck her tongue out.

“Thanks for sending me a lil extra for my child support last week, my baby momma been  _ trippin _ trippin.”

“That baby  _ definitely  _ ain’t yours, how both of y’all gonna be light and the kid gon’ be dark skinned?”

“I’m saying! Shit make no kinda sense.”

Amelia laughed obnoxiously as she tightened the magazine catch, not feeling the need to censor herself around her brother.

“How’s EC besides your baby momma?”

He sighed, and walked over to a window, showing the blizzard happening outside. “That’s how things going in EC.”

“Damn, that’s tough, couldn’t be me, though.”

Alfred smacked his lips, and gave his sister the finger. He took a sip from the McDonald’s cup he was drinking from, and set it back down on the table.

“I’m going out with a girl named London tonight and I thought of yo British ass.”

She gave him an unamused look as she depressed the bolt punch, squeezing the pair of pliers with all her strength until it was lined up properly.

“You  _ stupid  _ stupid, I ain’t even been to London since I moved here.”

“Liverpool in England, right?”

“Wow, gold star to you, getting a geography question right.”

“Fuck off Meli, you know I failed that lil world history class.”

She laughed, and reached for the parts to put the trigger together.

“Pick a color Al.”

He gave her a confused expression, but thought about it anyway.

“What about...neon green? Or like a gold color.”

“Give me  _ one _ more color, you doing good.”

“How bout blue? Like that ratchet ass wig you wearing?”

Amelia smacked her lips, and crossed her arms across her chest.

“Ain’t shit ratchet bout this wig, it was almost 200 quid!”

“Cost don’t matter when it look ratchet, you know that.”

She dramatically flicked her hair behind her shoulder, and shrugged.

“Who gon’ check me? Not you, on another continent.”

“I’ma get a passport just to put you in a headlock again, watch me.” Alfred said with a laugh, backing up from the camera so he could flex.

“Can you tell I’ve been working out again Meli? I’m swole as shit now.”

He flexed in a variety of goofy poses, making his sister groan and cover her eyes with her hand.

“The rest of you probably on stick though, back up a lil more.”

He sat back down, and crossed his arms.

“I’m workin on it!”

“Don’t think I ain’t see those collarbones mane.” She said with a laugh, making crude lines across her chest where her collarbones would be.

  
  


By the time it started to get dark in Liverpool, Amelia had assembled two out of the three guns while she talked to her brother.

“I gotta get to work, I’ll call you tomorrow.”

She frowned, and waved a sad goodbye to him before hanging up.

Ivan poked his head in from the other room, and stepped in when he saw her putting the device on the couch.

“I’m done. Do you want food,baby? I’m starving.”

Amelia perked up.

“Go over to that lil kebab spot by our place, and ask for a number 50, or Z order.”

Ivan raised an eyebrow, and leaned up against the wall.

“How often do you go there?”

She laughed, and waved her hand dismissively.

“None yo business, just tell Abdul that I got a couple tools for him when you get it.”

He grimaced, and shook his head.

“I thought we were done selling to him? Cuz he whips them out too often?”

“Girl, you obviously never met a Chicago or St. Louis dude.”

“How many cities have you lived in exactly?”

Amelia smiled widely, and pushed some of the gun components out of the way so she could lay on her stomach.

“Six I think? Cleveland, Boston, ATL, St. Louis, Chiraq, Leeds, and here.”

“That’s seven.”

“Really? My bad.”

“That’s what these for.” She said as she sat up a bit, and lifted her cropped sweatshirt to show off the numbers tattooed along the underside of her breasts.

“Put those away.” He said with a disgusted tone, making her smack her lips.

“Where was that energy last night when we was fuc-”

Ivan put on his shoes and left the house in response, slamming the door behind him.

“I hope the chav-mobile crashes.” She mumbled, laying back on the floor, and staring up at the patchy ceiling.

_ He just don’t know what he’s missing, cuz I’m that bitch. _

  
  


Ivan returned twenty minutes later, and tossed a styrofoam container and a diet fanta in her direction.

“This some kinda sick joke? Diet pop?”

He shook his head, and opened his container.

“I don’t like fat girls.”

“Get the fuck out.”

He listened, and Amelia was left alone in the dilapidated house.

  
  


Despite feeling heartbroken and humiliated, she powered through building the last of the AR-15s as she ate her kebab. 

Without the diet fanta.

The can was kicked to the side as she prepared the room so she could paint the guns, a signature her and Ivan had started as a joke when they first started selling them.

“We gonna need three shades of blue, a gold, a neon green, and a hot pink.” She mumbled to herself as she scanned the bookshelf for the right cans of spray paint, setting them on the floor.

She tied her hair up, and changed into the sports bra and cutoff shorts she used to paint.

  
  
  


Arthur was asked to accompany her to pick up stock a few days later, and couldn’t help but notice that her whole aura had changed.

She had an angry air about her, her lips drawn into a straight line as she blasted rap music he didn’t recognize from the speakers of her ridiculously large truck.

“Did something happen Audrey?”

She clenched her jaw, and drummed her acrylic nails against the steering wheel.

“The dude I’ve been fucking is acting a damn fool, it’s drivng me nuts.”

He gave an uncomfortable nod, and looked down at his lap. 

_ The dude she’s been fucking? The department didn’t mention her being in a relationship. _

From the passenger seat, he gave his boss another look over, and was inexplicably jealous of whoever this man was. 

“He’s a dickhead, whoever he is.”

“No fakin, I don’t know why I keep playing this game with him.”

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


Notes: 

-£5000=$6516

-Song Amelia singing: Money Good- Megan Thee Stallion

-£200=$263

-ATL- Atlanta

-Chiraq- Chicago


End file.
